


Resurrection

by Rigel99



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Daniel's Back Baby!, M/M, Skyfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: Just a mini fic to celebrate Mr Craig's return to the role.What REALLY happened on that island where Bond was recuperating after Moneypenny's takedown?





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a long time since he’d slept so well.

And on a golden, sandy beach.

Death certainly had its advantages. 

The last words he had heard still sounded through his mind sometimes.

“TAKE THE BLOODY SHOT!” she’d bellowed.

If she’d meant to give him extended leave of absence, she could've just told him to take a holiday, for fuck’s sake….

He sighed and stretched, sitting up from the lounger and rolling his shoulders.

He opened his eyes, squinting over his sunglasses.

The sultry, slender, dark-haired beauty rising from the waves swam before his piercing, blue-eyed gaze.

Bond lay back down on the lounger, content to watch the languid display. His skin was pale, unblemished so he could only surmise that the lad didn’t get out much so maybe a desk jockey or some such equally mundane job. Obviously not local to the island, a conclusion quickly verified when a young boy and girl came running towards him, just as he was up to his knees in water and waves.

_Lean, attractive, maybe interesting and…_

“Alec! Alec!” The shouts of the youngsters drew Bond’s eyes away from his potential prize.

“Hello, you two!” He smiled broadly, lips full and all too inviting.

_…and definitely British._

“Papa needs you!” The boy squealed, jumping up when they met each other at the waterline.

“Better take me to him then,” he called, swinging the girl onto his hip and shaking his head, spraying them both with the seawater from his hair and releasing the wild locks from their weighing down.

Bond watched them retreat towards the beach bar, his dark blue swimming trunks clinging to his arse in all the right places.

He closed his eyes again with a small smile playing on his lips, confident that it would be him clinging said asset before the next dawn hit the sandy cove.

* * *

The sun was setting over the ocean when he left his beach hut, donning a loose shirt, khaki pants and bare feet. His plan? A simple one. Have a few beers and shots and hopefully lure that pale-skinned nymph back to his shack for the night.

He was feeling predatory. A hunt seemed a perfect antidote.

As he neared the bar, he heard the rising chant, the patrons seemingly cheering on his intended target.

“Alec! Alec! Alec!”

He rounded the small gathering of palm trees and leaned against one to get the measure of the situation.

Alec, and the owner of the bar whom Bond had gotten to know quite well during his so far three week sojourn on the island, were performing what only could be best described as a scene from a Tom Cruise movie involving cocktails.

Nimble, dextrous, flexible… The lad just got more and more intriguing with every encounter.

Bond lingered in the shadows for a few minutes more, until the display came to its climatic conclusion, involving Alec downing the alcoholic concoction in one hit to the raucous cheers of the locals.

He pushed himself away from the tree trunk and sauntered towards the bar.

Well. As it happened, James Bond had a few tricks of his own.

* * *

Alec watched the scene with a sense of morbid fascination, wondering if the man was a special kind of insane or it was nothing more complicated than harbouring a death wish.

“He is a bit mad,” said Jack with a grin, the owner, taking a seat at the bar beside him. Alec glanced at him and then back at the blond. Attractive, blue-eyed muscle magnet that he was, it was obvious he could hold the attention of anyone whose attention he chose to demand.

The scorpion on the back of the hand holding the shot glass he was about to knock back just added more intrigue to the already interesting layers.

 _Dangerous…_ the word flared unbidden in Alec’s mind, watching while the blond seemed to look the insect straight in the tail, defying him to strike.

_ Death playing a game of bluff with Himself. _

Cheers of appreciation rose when he planted the glass on top of the scorpion. Alec’s arousal flared as their eyes met briefly, breaking away when a pretty local thrust another drink into his hands.

Alec turned back to his companion. “Does our crazy tourist have a name?”

Jack rose to move away and take up station behind the bar.

“Morton. Charles Morton. But you could always ask him yourself…” he said, with a tilt of his chin.

“Did I hear someone take my name in vain, Jack?” Alec swung his stool back to its original position to find that the stool on his left was now full of said, muscle-stacked, sunkist Charles Morton.

_Man moved like a bloody cat._

Alec could feel the beginnings of blush rise around his throat. He could sense his newly-acquired companion quite deliberately ignoring it.

With his eyes at least.

“You look like you could use a drink. Something over ice perhaps?”

Alec was never one to shy from a challenge. And he was on holiday. And Christ only knows when he’d get another break/date/life after he took up his post as MI6’s Quartermaster. He hadn’t really wanted to take it but Boothroyd had been quite insistent.

_“In three weeks I’ll be retiring, lad. You’ll need to be fully recharged and raring to go! Holiday! And no argument.”_

In two weeks, he’d be Q. May as well enjoy himself.

Charles Morton turned his probing, scrutinous ponds of blue upon him. Arousal flared, this time more intensely.

Alec leaned forward and into his space with a smile.“We might need more than ice if you’ve got a sting in your tail, Mr Morton.”

James couldn’t control the smile. This could be an even more interesting evening leading to morning than he had anticipated.

“You seem to have me at an advantage. Mr….?”

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Alec extended slender fingers towards him. Bond took it in a firm but gentle grip. Alec felt his throat dry in anticipation.

He took Charles drink from in front of him and tipped it back, eyes locked onto each other as the liquid slid down his throat.

“Ronson,” he replied. “Alec Ronson.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alec felt the slight stutter in the handshake before they broke the touch but Charles’ smile did not falter.

“How long are you here, Mr… Ronson?” Charles said, leaning his elbows against the bar.

“Alec. Please.”

“I had a friend called Alec. Once upon a time. Bit of a bastard truth be told.”

He turned towards him again, scanning his face as though searching for some flaw, some failing behind the hazel green eyes, the strong clean shaven jaw.

“How about you? Are you a bit of a bastard?”

Alec laughed, a light melodic giggling sound. “My parents didn’t think so.”

Bond grinned. There was a genuine openness about him that made him cheekily attractive. He paused to remind himself he was officially dead and if MI6 couldn’t find him, his enemies couldn’t either.

“So…?”

“Oh. I have one more week before I head back to England,” Alec said, in response to the original question.

“Back to someone special?”

“Oh good Lord no. Unless two cats and a new job count as special.”

Bond leaned closer and dropped his voice to a low murmur. “I’m quite good when it comes to making people I like feel… special.”

Alec was quite enthralled at the sheer audacity and confidence exuded by the man. It was frankly intoxicating. In blatant response, Alec let his eyes trail down to his mouth and linger on his chest. He reached forward to glance his fingers across the exposed area beneath his throat, pushing the shirt back a little to catch a glimpse of the still healing wound.

Bond stilled the hand with his own and brought it to his lips.

Alec recognised a gunshot wound when he saw it.

_Dangerous. But do I fucking care?_

A rough thumb caressed the centre of his palm while lips uttered against his fingers, “How about it?”

This was one version of short-sighted Alec certainly wasn’t.

* * *

No preamble. No small talk. No gentleness whatsoever.

This was James fucking Bond. In every sense of the word. Making a comeback in glorious fashion.

He hadn’t fucked a man in ages but given that the last woman he’d loved had betrayed him, the last voice he heard was a woman literally willing to sacrifice his life and the last shot he’d taken was from the gun of a female agent, he felt in the mood for something different.

Alec’s shirt was off before his back hit the wall of the beach hut.

“Nice place,” Alec huffed a split second before the mouth landed on his neck and powerful arms hoisted him off the ground to wrap his legs around his waist.

“Of all the beaches, in all the world…” Alec laughed breathlessly, his arousal running riot through his mind, hoping in the back of it, Charles had the necessary accessories to bring the night to the conclusion he’d been hoping for ever since he walked into the bar.

Which of course he did. 

This was Bond’s first sexual encounter since crashing off that bridge in Istanbul and he was damn well going to make the most of it.

He dragged himself and Alec away from the wall and tossed him on the bed. He made to cover his splayed body with his own but Alec pushed him onto his back and crawled down his chest.

He kissed the space between his navel and full-blown erection with the enthusiasm of a first timer, but his look in the soft light, the glow from the lamps in the hut dancing in the darkness of his eyes told of anything but first time.

“I hope you have a short refractory period,” he said with a smile that could have melted an arctic heart.

Bond hoped so too.

* * *

The ache was delicious. From head to toe, Alec felt like he’d experienced a sexual tsunami and was lucky to be still alive. Charles had been relentless, and skilled. Very skilled.

He had explored with such attentiveness and care but at the same time with an intensity that had broached no resistance and had rewarded Alec unreservedly for his compliance to his needs.

_ Glorious. Fucking glorious…  _

Alec had kissed the scars on his chest, his back, his arms but had not asked any questions.

Everyone deserved their secrets. He had enough of his own.

The bed was empty but there was a note on the pillow.

_Coffee run. Back soon. C._

So Alec waited. Or tried to. He wasn’t really one for sitting round. He got up and grabbed one of Charles’ shirts and his swimming trunks and headed in the direction of the only source of coffee within a half-mile radius.

The breaking news bulletin on the TV screen chased all thoughts of coffee and gorgeous blond bedfellows immediately out of his head.

He said a swift goodbye to Jack and his children before heading back to his own shack. Jack just shrugged and shook his head. “Crazy English. Most people run away from major explosions and cities under attack, not towards them.” 

Alec rummaged through his rucksack for the phone he had brought but had diligently avoided during his break.

Switching it on, the message instantly appeared.

He hit speed dial. It was answered on the second ring.

“Tanner? It’s me. I’m coming.”

* * *

**One Week Later, The National Gallery, London**

Bond looked at Q.

Q looked at Bond.

“Q.”

“Bond.”

“So. That name you gave. Alec Ronson?”

Q sighed. “Yes. They hadn’t retrieved your body so MI6 were a little hesitant to put your name on the wall in the foyer of River House…”

Bond smiled as Q passed him his airline tickets. 

“I’m glad. Fairly certain I wouldn’t have enjoyed my death quite so much as I did had you introduced yourself as Andrew Bond.”

Q handed him the gun case. “I’m quite glad too as it happens.”

“I’d love to meet the cats,” Bond said casually, opening the lid to briefly admire the weapon inside.

“Well. If you make it back from Patrice in one piece, I’m sure something can be arranged…” nonchalant as Bond in his reply.

Bond smiled at the retreating parka, all too aware of the delights concealed beneath.

“Brave new world…”


End file.
